


These Are The Days

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Drama, Episode Tag, Episode: s06e02 The Birnam Wood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-17
Updated: 2006-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:45:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: The old saying was true; you can't go home again.





	These Are The Days

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**These Are The Days**

**by:** Lori O. 

**Character(s):** Sam Seaborn  
**Category(s):** Character Death, Drama, Post-Episode for 6-02 The Birnam Wood  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** The old saying was true; you can't go home again.   


The old saying was true; you can't go home again. 

He'd learned that when he made his home back in California. After years away, it had been very strange coming back. Everything had changed; things were new and places that had lived in his memories for years had disappeared. It had taken some time to readjust, but it had been done. In some ways it was like moving to a completely new land that only seemed to be like the one of his nativity. Maybe it had been easier in some ways than his trip back here, because he'd more expected the changes because of the years away. 

Maybe that was why it was so jarring being back in Washington right now. Everything felt distorted, warped, like looking through a fractured kaleidoscope. Nothing fit, nothing looked right, and trying to bring everything into focus and make it fit with how he _thought_ it should be gave him a headache. 

Or maybe it was simply the _reason_ he was back in Washington that made his head pound and twisted his stomach into knots. Returning for a funeral was not the way he thought he'd come back to see his former colleagues. But what hurt most of all was _whose_ funeral he had come back for. His death wasn't supposed to happen this way; not surrounded in hushed scandal. 

Sam sat in the cool, quiet structure, his hands in folded solemnly in his lap. His eyes were focused straight ahead, drawn to the coffin that dominated the front of the massive structure simply by its presence. The nave was silent, only a small rustle of clothes as people shifted slightly on their seats. Small whispers were lost in the cavernous cathedral as they all waited for the priest to begin. It was much like the time he'd sat there during Mrs. Landingham's funeral; quietly, reverently taking his place after bearing her coffin to the front of the room. This time around, he hadn't even enjoyed a peaceable moment with his fellow pallbearers. They were too estranged for that. 

He sat behind Mallory as she sat next to her mother; Margaret sat next to them as a symbol of how much she had meant to Leo. Across the aisle sat the President and the First Lady, the Vice President and his wife next to them. Toby, Josh and C.J. were scattered in the pews behind them, and Sam scowled slightly as he saw Will sitting with the staffers as well, holding a place of honor. The Bartlet children were in attendance as well and they were the only people from _that_ side of the aisle that he'd spent any real time talking to. 

He didn't have much to say to his former colleagues, at least not that he would say in front of the members of Congress, ambassadors and other dignitaries that had congregated for Leo's funeral. So he sat, staid and stoic, his face in a somber expression as it had been ever since his arrival back in Washington. He hadn't said anything when he showed up to take his place as a pallbearer. He'd been surprised when Mallory has asked him to perform the service, but he'd readily consented. For the man and for the daughter who had once been his friend. It had been weird to be in close proximity to Josh and Toby and not say anything beyond what was absolutely necessary. Yet, he'd also noticed that neither of them had gone out of their way to speak to him. 

The service was beautiful, in a detached sort of way. C.J., Toby and Josh all gave short readings, their grief apparent. Or perhaps it was guilt. He looked away from the displays. As expected, President Bartlet spoke; beautiful words that Sam knew the older man had written personally. They weren't polished enough to be Toby's, and they were meant to convey the President's personal history and feelings for his old friend. But Sam just felt empty inside from the platitudes. 

When the funeral was over, he once again carried Leo from the cathedral out to the waiting hearse. Mallory climbed inside the limo beside her mother and followed the procession to the airport. Leo was going to be buried in Chicago next to his parents; Mallory claimed that it had always been his wish. Sam couldn't help wondering at the truth of that statement. Mallory had said very little to the President and her father's colleagues, and what little she had said left him with the impression that she wanted her father's body as far away from them as possible. That she didn't want his remains to reside in a town he heard her whisper to her mother that she now loathed and wanted to leave herself. 

The crowd dispersed from the church, and for the longest time he stood in front and watched the people go. Then he turned and walked back inside. No tourists would be coming today to gawk at and admire The National Cathedral. It had been closed for the funeral and wouldn't be opened again until tomorrow. He was glad for it; he could have time to think and be alone. 

He went towards the front and slipped into a pew, content to sit silent in the room. Placing his clasped hands on the back of the seat before him, he leaned forward with a sigh. Leo was dead. The news still didn't fit, wasn't right. He hadn't believed it when he'd received the phone call in his office. Mostly, he realized, he hadn't _wanted_ to believe it. He hadn't wanted it to be true, to be forced with the reality that the man he had looked up, respected and admired was no longer alive. 

Never in his wildest dreams, or worst nightmares, had Sam ever thought they'd be burying Leo before the President. Not after learning about the MS. Ever the lawyer who wanted to be prepared, Sam had thoroughly researched Relapsing/Remitting Multiple Sclerosis; he had been thoroughly depressed to learn what the President would suffer through and the mortality rate associated with the disease. Sure, Leo was older than Sam and Josh and Toby, but the heart attack was so unexpected. Leo certainly hadn't said anything that had alarmed Sam during their talks. In fact, he'd mentioned a couple of months ago that he'd gotten a clean bill of health at his latest check-up. Either Leo hadn't been entirely truthful, or something had changed dramatically in that time period. 

A door opened and closed somewhere in the background, and steps echoed off the floors, bounced off the ceilings. He stiffened as he shook off his thoughts, because he knew that anybody who was approaching was someone he didn't want to talk to. The footsteps were light, feminine and he was pretty sure he knew who it was. Unless Donna had decided to come see him. 

"Sam?" 

He didn't move, didn't look up, didn't even respond when C.J. spoke. She sat down on the pew in front of him, twisting slightly so she could partially face him. She looked at him, he could feel her eyes on him, but he stared straight ahead as if he didn't notice or care that she was there. 

"Sam?" she spoke again, softly as she gently placed her hand on his arm. 

He had no choice but to look over at her. "C.J.," he acknowledged. 

When he said nothing more, she sighed and brushed her hair off her forehead. "It seems wrong, under the circumstances, to say that I'm glad you're here. But it's nice to see you again." 

He took a breath and let it out slowly, but he only cast a sideways glance at her. He remained silent. Not because he didn't have anything to say, but because he had _too_ much to say. And he didn't think this was the place to say it all. 

"Sam?" C.J. questioned, her brows furrowed, a wariness entering her eyes. "Are you alright?" 

His fingers clenched together in front of him and he knew that she could feel the tensing of his arm under her hand. "I came to bury a friend. A man I respected, a man I learned more from than anyone else, including my father. I'm going back to my hotel and have a proper, _private_ , Irish Wake. What I do _not_ want to do is spend one more minute with you or anyone else. Because as far as I'm concerned, you and everyone else are nothing more than a bunch of sanctimonious hypocrites; standing up there with your big crocodile tears. Each and every one of you makes me sick." 

Then he stood and walked out the door. 

~*~ 

The knock on the door came later than he expected. After walking out on C.J. Sam figured she would have rushed right back to the White House, told Josh and Toby what he'd said, and then all three would make their way over. Maybe they just didn't care what he thought of them, or maybe something had come up that they'd had to deal with. After all, the business of government didn't stop for funerals or personal matters. 

Sam had plenty of time to sit, drink and stew. In addition to cursing his former colleagues and the President. Mallory hadn't known all of the details, but she'd told him through her tears last night what she _did_ know. And she told him what the President had said in an unguarded moment of grief and guilt. And that was when he'd seen red and the mild annoyance at his friends drifting apart from him had turned into pure anger at their indifference towards the one man who deserved it least. 

Slowly, he stood from the chair he was slumped in and crossed the room. His coat and tie were on the bed; in the same place he'd dropped them when he returned from the funeral. His sleeves were unbuttoned and carelessly pushed up towards his elbows. His shirt tails were partially pulled out, his top buttons mostly undone and out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of his rumpled hair as he passed the mirror. Nobody said a wake had to be pretty. 

Opening the door as he took a sip of his drink, he peered over the rim of the glass at Toby, Josh and C.J. who stood in the hotel hallway. "Hey," he said blandly. "Funny seeing you here." 

Josh pushed his way in, their shoulders colliding wordlessly as he made a hole for the trio to enter. Sam shut the door and turned around, leaning against it as he took another sip. They all stood there, silently regarding each other, a match to see who would break first. Normally Sam would have been tripping over himself to end the silence, but he wasn't going to do it now. They had come to see him, so they would have to be the ones to speak first. 

As he expected, Josh was the first to flinch and step forward. "Sam?" 

He merely blinked and took another sip. Josh sighed and put his hands on his hips. "What's wrong with you?" 

"Wrong?" Sam questioned, carefully folding his arms over his chest so his glass didn't tip. "Nothing. I'm merely toasting the memory of a friend. Why are you here?" 

"C.J. told us what you said." 

Looking over, Sam raised his eyebrows slightly when she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked down. He glanced at Toby, but the older man was leaning against the wall, arms folded, eyes on the carpet. With a sigh, Sam looked back at Josh, the only one who seemed to be in the mood for this confrontation. "Yes. What about it?" 

"What's wrong with you?" Josh asked again. "You think we aren't sad about Leo's death? You think we were hypocrites at the funeral?" 

"Not think," Sam shook his head as he pushed of the wall and cross the room for the bottle he'd left on the table. "I _know_ you are. All of you up there crying and looking so devastated. What it really was was nothing more than grief and fear someone would learn your dirty little secret." 

Josh looked confused, even through the anger that flared up. "What are you talking about? We were all stunned when we heard Leo was dead." 

"Was that before or after the President tapped you to be Acting Chief of Staff? Were you suddenly _stunned_ because it wasn't just that Leo had been fired by the President, but that you guys had traveled back to Washington while Leo lay dead in the woods?" 

"Sam-" 

"Spare me," he cut the other man off. "Mallory told me. The President told her because he felt guilty. Leo was fired because the President didn't like having someone argue with him. Because Leo wasn't a sycophant kissing his butt, because he dared to disagree with what the President was doing with Israel, he was fired. None of you looked for him when he wasn't there the next day, you were all too busy trying to placate a man grown tyrannical in his need to be right, to be the best president ever. And then when you heard that Leo had _resigned_ you just let his absence slip from your mind. Until he was found two days later, dead at Camp David where he was left by the people who claimed to care about him." 

"We didn't care about Leo?" Josh asked on a growl. 

"I'm saying you forgot about him awfully quick while trying to keep your jobs. Leo was getting shoved out of the inner circle and not one of you stepped in because you didn't want the President's critical wrath on you." 

"How would you even know what was going on?" Josh challenged angrily. "You weren't even here." 

Sam shrugged with his eyebrows. "We talked. I called him, and here's a novel concept for you guys, _he_ actually called me. I listened. And I understood what it was like to be on the outside; called a member of the staff but not really treated like one." 

"Sam," C.J. said softly, speaking for the first time since stepping into his hotel room. "Whatever you're feeling right now, we really did care about Leo. It's been hard to deal with the tragedy." 

He turned a withering eye on her. "Really, C.J.? And that's why you've been lying to the press corps about what _really_ happened to Leo? I wonder what they would say, what the American public would say, if they knew you were lying to them. They'd probably wonder what else you were lying about." 

Taking a sip, and letting the liquor roll around on his tongue, he schooled his face in deep concentration. "You know, this could make a very interesting case study for one of my classes. C.J., you know the press. How long do you think it would take for word to leak out of one little communications class at UCLA and create yet _another_ scandal for your administration?" 

"Sam?" she squeaked. 

"Oh relax," he smiled disarmingly. "Of course this would all be hypothetical, maybe dig up something from history. It wouldn't be _my_ fault if some smart kid questioned the current situation, dug a little deeper." 

"You would turn on us?" Josh asked, taken aback. "You would really do that to us?" 

"I'm only doing what I've learned from you," Sam answered. "Let's hope that you have better luck, Josh, in your current position than Leo had. I'd hate to have to come back for your funeral." 

Josh turned for the door. "Don't do me any favors." 

Then he was out the door and gone. C.J. sighed and stood slowly. "Sam, you don't know how hard this has been on him. Leo was a friend of his family for years; after Josh's dad died Leo became a father figure to him. Mallory…Mallory quietly asked him not to come to the funeral, to stay away. It's been eating him up." 

"Tell me something, C.J.," he said. "Has he once told the President he's wrong? Has he stood up for the memory of his _long-time family friend_?" 

She looked down and Sam let out a harsh, disparaging breath. "Yeah. That's what I thought." 

C.J. shook her head slightly, then headed for the door herself. She paused, "Toby?" 

Toby finally moved from his statue pose and followed after her. Without a word or a glance at Sam. 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 

When the knock came on the door the next morning, Sam gingerly made his way across the room. He was ready to check out and get out of this city. People called California the land of fruits and nuts, but he would gladly take it over the madness that was D.C. Something about the place made everyone crazy. He'd once called it the funnel effect, but there was something truthful to the once derisive comment. 

He was already turning around as he opened the door. "Come on in. The bags are by the bed." 

"I'm not here for your bags, Sam." 

He spun around and ignored the way his head pulsed at the movement. "Toby?" 

"Getting ready to go?" he asked as he walked inside. 

Nodding, Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. Funeral's over. I've got classes to get to." 

"A teacher," Toby said through a little chuckle that Sam knew wasn't degrading as Josh's had been when he'd called the other man. 

"Yeah," he replied as he leaned against the dresser. "Not exactly what I figured I'd do after losing a major Congressional race. But they asked…and I figured why not? Could be interesting." 

"They were smart to make the offer," Toby said, and Sam blinked to hide his surprise at the compliment. "Are you happy being a civilian again?" 

"It treats me well," he said. "It's not some soulless law firm. It's interesting. I'd never really thought about teaching before, but I like it." 

He didn't say _for now_ , even though part of him felt that way. He didn't know if he'd teach forever, but it wasn't politics. And that was what he wanted right now. 

"So you've given up politics forever?" Toby shrugged. 

"I don't know," Sam answered honestly. "Maybe in a year or two I'll look into something local. Right now though…" 

"Are you really going to expose the President?" his former friend asked softly. 

"Are you asking…telling me not to?" he asked, raising a challenging eyebrow. 

"I can't tell you to do anything, Sam," Toby shook his head. "And I'm not asking you, either. If you do this, I won't blame you." 

"You don't agree with what's happened, do you? And not just about Leo." 

Toby rolled his lips between his teeth and looked down. Sam knew that was as close to an admission as he would get. While Toby might disagree with the President, he was still fiercely loyal to him and wouldn't readily voice those disagreements in public or to non-Senior Staff. 

"Good luck, Toby," Sam broke the silence. "I hope you don't wind up the next victim in the President's madness. You have to keep him honest." 

"The President…or Josh?" 

"Both." 

The bellman knocked, giving both men an out of the conversation, and Sam directed him to take his bags and secure a cab. Taking one last look around to make sure he hadn't left anything behind, he then turned to Toby with a wane smile. "I guess this is it." 

"Yeah, I suppose." 

"Don't be a stranger, Toby. Use the phone for more than yelling at subordinates." 

Then the two men exited the room and turned for separate exits in the hall. Sam poured himself into the waiting cab and settled back as it pulled away from the curb. Once he hadn't been able to imagine living anywhere else than Washington, his time before then seemed as if he'd only been half alive. Now, the city made his skin crawl. He couldn't wait to get back to California. 

With any luck, that would remain his home. And this would be the last time he came back to Washington. At least until he was ready to come back and take the town on his own terms. 


End file.
